StormClan (Silver) Challenges
by Peregrine Mendicant
Summary: The challenges for the StormClan run by Silver. You know the drill.
1. Chapter 1

Challenge 1: Alone...

Topic: Greyfeather

The forest was silent. In the freezing heart of leafbare, not a whisper of sound brushed through the dead branches overhead. Even the leaves underpaw seemed to mock the warrior with the lack of their usual crackling. Everything was muted. The air was sharp with the scent of coming snow, but the white flurries had not fallen yet.

Stars glittered overhead, but Greyfeather did not feel as if any wise ancestors of StarClan were watching over him. Their light was as cold as the breeze that cut through his dark pelt. The sky was black, and dark clouds blocked the moon from view.

Silence.

His breathing was jagged in his ears, and the torn pieces of his heart stabbed into his chest with every step. The air around his muzzle fogged with every exhale, and pricked at his throat with an inhale. Breathing was getting harder these days. He didn't know how to breathe without her. She was the one thing that stopped him from drowning.

And she never noticed him.

She never saw him.

He noticed Cricketleap's glances at the medicine cat from across camp. He hadn't told anyone. But he knew.

He saw the looks the Stormbird gave her when she wasn't looking. The concealed love. The doubt. The confusion.

It was like being cut open and laid to die in the middle of camp, and not a soul noticed the blood on their paws as they passed. He was a shadow. Unimportant. Utterly and undeniably alone.

Did every cat feel like this at one point or another?

Greyfeather soon reached a hollow in the base of an oak with a thick trunk and deep roots. To seek shelter from the coming storm and even more solitude, the warrior slipped inside and curled up in the darkness.

Could she ever learn to love him? She had to know that her relationship with the medicine cat was against the Code. It was wrong, and they would be punished for it if they were found out.

But he loved her too much to seek revenge. He would not be the one to talk. Even if it meant he would be alone, he didn't want her to suffer for feeling the same way he did...even if it was for the wrong cat.

Exhaustion pulled at the grey tom, and he finally shut his eyes and allowed the darkness to seep in behind his eyelids. It was late, and he had walked to the very edge of the territory just to escape for a little while. He thought the pain wouldn't follow, but the quiet seemed to have made it infinitely worse.

Who knew love was so crippling? He supposed the "unrequited" bit could count for something.

When sleep eventually stilled his spinning mind, he dreamed. _He was an apprentice again, and Cricketpaw was on a hunting patrol with him. Her black pelt seemed to shine beautifully in the light that flickered through the leaves overhead, and her amber eyes were bright and alert._

_She caught him staring at her with awe, and gave him a confused tilt of her head._

_"What are you looking at?" she giggled and she inspected herself. "Do I have dirt in my fur?"_

_"Not at all," Greypaw answered quickly; too quickly. "There's a squirrel behind you."_

_He had been lucky enough to have spotted the creature just in time, and Cricketpaw had let out the prettiest little laugh of surprise. "You're right! Let's see if we can catch it."_

_"Alright."_

The dream was over all too soon as snow forced him to sneeze awake. It had been simple, but it had carved out the remains of his dignity and left him a hopeless mess.

She would never love him. She would never notice his look of awe ever again.

She had eyes for a different tom.

He was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Challenge: Young Lives

Topic: Mousekit

The camp was silent. The cats of the Clan were all asleep and warm in their nests, despite the cold weather of leafbare. A storm had raged in overnight, and snow had begun to pile up. The kits, who had been born in leaffall when the weather wasn't quite so chill, would undoubtedly be amazed in the morning when they encountered the glittering landscape. The older warriors would possibly be disgruntled by the hindrance, and would be working to proceed with their daily plans to the best of their abilities.

In the nursery, a restless sleeper rose her fluffy grey head. She blinked a few moments before registering that the scenery outside the shelter was actually white. She rose from her nest, careful not to disturb any of the other sleeping kits. When she reached the exit, she accidentally nudged a dark tom sprawled half-out of his nest.

"Watch it, Mousekit," he mumbled, half-asleep.

"Sorry, Blackkit!" Mousekit apologized quietly, and he fell back asleep.

The pale grey she-cat exited the warmth of the den, appalled by how cold and featureless the world was. Familiar scenery had disappeared along with the snow that fell in sweeps across the forest, and piles leaned against dens and covered the fresh-kill pile.

The other kits won't have anything to eat in the morning! Mousekit realized, examining the state of the prey, which had long-since been buried. She knew that it was against the rules to leave camp, but the Clan needed the prey! Nobody would notice if she just snuck out and came back with food. They would thank her!

Mousekit slunk through the tunnel that led out of camp and into the forest. The snow had slowed somewhat, and she could confidently guess that the storm would be over soon. She began moving in a random direction, unfamiliar with the dark, white-washed landscape. She'd be able to find her way back by following her paw prints, as the snow had lessened to a few flakes here and there by this point.

A dark-furred squirrel caught her eye, and she crouched down to begin stalking after it. The grey of her pelt blended in well, but her untrained movements caught the squirrel's attention, and it immediately began racing off. Mousekit burst after it, her agility being one of her main traits, but was always only just too far to pounce. By the time she snatched it up and killed it off with a lucky, but messy nip to the neck, she turned to find that both her tracks and the squirrel's had disappeared.

Foxdung. This wasn't good. The snow was picking up again, and Mousekit had no idea where she was. She could be in another Clan's territory, or she could be in the empty wilderness that no Clan had laid claim to. How could I have been so stupid? I thought the storm was over!

As she stood in one place, fear sank into her bones as effectively as the chill that was numbing her pads. She had dropped the squirrel in her paralyzed realization, and it was already half-covered with powder. She shook out of her anxiety and began running in the direction she estimated she had come, but the trees became more and more unfamiliar, even without the snow.

When Mousekit could finally run no more, her fur frozen and her pads blue with cold, she curled up into herself in a shelter of roots at the base of a tree. It didn't do very well at keeping out the cold, but at least the snow was off of her. She closed her eyes, trying to at least fall asleep to block out the exhaustion and numbness she felt. I'm going to die.

_My name is Mousekit. I'm six moons old, and was going to become an apprentice soon. My mother is Leafeyes and my father is Stormlight. My sister is Ashkit, and my best friend is Blackkit. My Clan is WaveClan._

_WaveClan is strong._

_It's not their fault._

_It's mine._

.

.

.

.

When the morning sun arrived, the storm had ceased. The kits were amazed by the snow, and played amongst it; oblivious to the heavy atmosphere. The older warriors were quiet. Two young warriors hung their heads low over the small body of a kit. Two kits watched, painful grief clear to read in their faces.

"I don't know why she would do that," Ashkit choked out into the silence.

Blackkit clenched his eyes shut, guilt squirming in his chest and making it hard to breathe. He could have stopped her. He faintly remembered how she had awakened him that night, but he had been too tired to realize...

Mousekit had been found by the dawn patrol that had been sent out to look for her. She had been stiff, and her fur clumped with ice and snow. Her eyes were closed, and wouldn't open no matter what they did.

The kit had died from overexposure to the harsh elements. The Clan had slept peacefully while one of its own wandered out into the cold and died that very night. She had been too young, and had so much left to learn. She would never know what it would be like to receive her warrior name. To fall in love. To have kits. To grow old.

The Clan knew she watched them from StarClan. She would be there to give their future leader, Blackstar, one of his lives. She would reunite with her sister one day after a battle with a badger, along with her mother.

WaveClan would remember Mousekit.

She had been strong.

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**A/N: I found the skeleton of a half-written challenge and managed to tweak it a bit to fit this one! Yay!**


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